marinescoffee-blog - Tumblr blog

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update ; 

my best friend from college has been here since sunday, stays until thursday night, and his girlfriend (my best friend from high school) comes over to bitch and moan and complain visit. plus i have my counseling hours & other shit. 

activity will be sporadic until thursday evening/friday morning. 

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GATE CRASHES THE PARTY 

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THE EXCESSIVELY DETAILED HEADCANON TUMBLR MEME

Send me some numbers, and I will tell you:

What does their bedroom look like?

Do they have any daily rituals?

Do they exercise, and if so, what do they do? How often?

What would they do if they needed to make dinner but the kitchen was busy?

Cleanliness habits (personal, workspace, etc.)

Eating habits and sample daily menu

Favorite way to waste time and feelings surrounding wasting time

Favorite indulgence and feelings surrounding indulging

Makeup?

Neuroses? Do they recognize them as such?

Intellectual pursuits?

Favorite book genre?

Sexual Orientation? And, regardless of own orientation, thoughts on sexual orientation in general?

Physical abnormalities? (Both visible and not, including injuries/disabilities, long-term illnesses, food-intolerances, etc.)

Biggest and smallest short term goal?

Biggest and smallest long term goal?

Preferred mode of dress and rituals surrounding dress

Favorite beverage?

What do they think about before falling asleep at night?

Childhood illnesses? Any interesting stories behind them?

Turn-ons? Turn-offs?

Given a blank piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, what would happen?

How organized are they? How does this organization/disorganization manifest in their everyday life?

Is there one subject of study that they excel at? Or do they even care about intellectual pursuits at all?

How do they see themselves 5 years from today?

Do they have any plans for the future? Any contingency plans if things don’t workout?

What is their biggest regret?

Who do they see as their best friend? Their worst enemy?

Reaction to sudden extrapersonal disaster (eg The house is on fire! What do they do?)

Reaction to sudden intrapersonal disaster (eg close family member suddenly dies)

Most prized possession?

Thoughts on material possessions in general?

Concept of home and family?

Thoughts on privacy? (Are they a private person, or are they prone to ‘TMI’?)

What activities do they enjoy, but consider to be a waste of time?

What makes them feel guilty?

Are they more analytical or more emotional in their decision-making?

Would they consider themselves a Type A or Type B personality?

What recharges them when they’re feeling drained?

Would you say that they have a superiority-complex? Inferiority-complex? Neither?

How misanthropic are they?

Hobbies?

How far did they get in formal education? What are their views on formal education vs self-education?

Religion?

Superstitions or views on the occult?

Do they express their thoughts through words or deeds?

If they were to fall in love, who (or what) is their ideal?

How do they express love?

If this person were to get into a fist fight, what is their fighting style like?

Is this person afraid of dying? Why or why not?

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cas made me do it.

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McGee trying to avoid awkward situations

Bonus:

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I’m sorry I don’t respond But it isn’t, after all, my fault That I don’t correspond To the other you loved in me. Each of us is many persons. To me I’m who I think I am, But others see me differently And are equally mistaken. Don’t dream me into someone else But leave me alone, in peace! If I don’t want to find myself, Should I want others to find me?

Fernando Pessoa (via bhs3)

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5x14 Internal Affairs

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me, with tears in my eyes: time to make a joke

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Dear Jethro, Kelly misses you a lot. She looks more and more like you each day. I miss you too, it's hard, even with the other Marine wives to support me. I went to the doctor today, they said I'm pregnant again! I hope it's a little boy this time! He'd look just like his papa, I hope. Anyway, I'll see you after I'm done testifying at the trial. Love, your wife, Shannon xo (this was never sent and gibbs finds it after his girls' deaths)

TWO DECADES COME AND GO SINCE ‘91, filled with three failed marriages and a new career. unpacked boxes in an empty bedroom, glasses of bourbon in a basement with a sawdust floor. 

       soon after it happened (the crash, the chaplain, the coma, the ceremony) jethro picked through the pieces of his life left shattered by his late wife’s best intentions. all shannon wanted to do was help; all jethro (still) wants is to hold his girls again. his dad and shannon’s parents offered to go through their things ( “they were our girls too” ) but he turned them all away. 

                     (   “   when kate was taken from us,                               and director shepard, mike franks…                               their autopsies were all i had left of them.                               if i wasn’t willing to give up those last moments                               with them, i’m sure as hell not now.   ”                                             he’s always left the bodies to doctor mallard.                                          these autopsies are done on unpacked boxes;                                          he knows the method and the motive,                                          all he looks for now are memories.   )

       short of some new threat to national security, or god forbid, an agency emergency, team gibbs has the weekend off. all jethro’s packing is a box cutter and a steaming mug of coffee; baggy jeans and work boots topped with a fading USMC hoodie. the wooden stairs leading down into the basement creak beneath his weight (he’ll check ‘em later, maybe) before he makes his way to snag a couple boxes tucked behind the furnace. he’s gonna work from the bottom up on this one, try to prepare himself for the bedroom two floors above. 

       time passes. minutes, hours – he hardly notices. his mug’s long gone empty. 

       calloused fingers wrap carefully around a yellowing envelope and the world goes still – his tongue swipes out to wet his lips as his gaze slides to the right, the left, anywhere but the achingly familiar loops of shannon’s handwriting. these words, he memorized them YEARS AGO, a soundtrack left echoing in the background of his surreal dreams always read in her soft voice. 

       a cold gaze begins to water; his stoic expression slowly crumbles. his is the face of a BROKEN MAN, a widower with blood smeared across his past, staining both his hands. 

       jethro hasn’t said a word in HOURS, and hours more will pass before he speaks again. 

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I promise you my pain wasn’t poetic. It was days without sleep and pretending I was stable enough to continue.

i am tired of this sadness. (via thedestrcyer)

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                  ❛ SHE’S GOT BALLS. ❜                               ❛ YOU’RE STILL A BASTARD. ❜

                        ncis special agents leroy jethro gibbs & caitlin todd                                                    portrayed by cas & kim

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to be honest       i’m so tired.   of the constant fighting   of merely survivng. though the war has ended       the past is left behind   this rage is still flaring   my wrath is neverending why won’t this nightmare end?

maliitiosi ( a monster’s inner thoughts )

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Send me a ✐ and my character will write yours…

Using a random number generator:

➊ an everyday note ➋ a happy birthday card ➌ a “dear john” letter ➍ a “please remember to…” note ➎ a confession ➏ a “morning after” letter ➐ a love poem ➑ a goodbye letter ➒ a letter meant to be read only once my character is dead ➓ a message asking for something

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You've always been the agent I most look up to

tell gibbs something you’d never say to his face | accepting 

IT HAPPENS, AS ALWAYS, IN THE DESPERATE SPACE between one racing heartbeat and the next – when it all seems hopeless, like they’ve already lost. 

       “ not ‘til i get us out of here, ” he insists, a hiss through clenched teeth followed by a groan as jethro puts all his weight into the heavy, metal door. if they can’t force it open, this cell becomes their tomb (with rusted, filthy corners and grime sticking to their clothes, their skin.) 

       he doesn’t think himself a hero, doesn’t wanna be somebody’s role model. DON’T BE LIKE ME, he once told dinozzo. LEARN FROM IT. 

       the agent spares a laugh, dark and heavy like the sound of giving up. it makes his skin crawl, enough that he ignores the pain of his dislocated shoulder and two broken fingers. sewage water (or maybe it’s just muddy from the river) floods in through the cracks along the western wall until it seeps into their shoes. from there, it only rises. 

       “ c’mere, give me a hand. we can get this open, ” he orders, because hopeless people sometimes need a push or shove to motivate them. this damn door’s too heavy to move alone. 

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Anonymously tell my muse something you'd never say to their face.

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My difficulties belong to me.

Alfred Adler  (via medicroix)

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